


we ain't ever getting older

by capsize (copenhagenborn)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Not A Happy Ending, Post Season 4, Road Trip, mentions of Braeden/derek, reference to soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 19:03:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8069065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copenhagenborn/pseuds/capsize
Summary: derek leaves for new york, stiles drives him there.





	

**PENNSYLVANIA**

The sun is hot against Stiles’ skin as he leans against the hood of his jeep.

Derek’s standing between his legs, back pressed against Stiles’ chest as they watch the sunset in silence, fingers loosely intertwined across Derek’s chest. And Stiles hates that it hasn’t been like this the entire time, that it had to come to this before they finally cracked and let each other in. And now Derek is leaving for good, taking off and staying away and leaving Stiles with nothing but four days filled with memories he should have had an entire lifetime to enjoy.

“I hate you, you know that right?” he mutters against his temple, lips loose from the dirty kisses and the beer Derek had allowed him to drink when they ate. “I don’t even know what I am doing here right now, I should just turn around and go back home, that’s how much I hate you.” But his voice is hoarse and they both know he doesn’t mean it, haven’t done so in a long time – if he ever truly did.

“I know Stiles, I know.” Derek says instead and pushes harder against his chest. Because he does, Derek has always known what Stiles is trying to say, even when it doesn’t make sense and no one else is following his train of thoughts, Derek has been there to roll his eyes and tell him he’s being ridiculous – that it’s never going to work and why is he even trying?

He brings Stiles’ hand to his lips, kisses the back of it before he nips the tips of his fingers with dull human teeth, and it’s too much of everything they haven’t had before, and Stiles wants to pull away because the withdrawals are going to be a bitch. But at the same time, he doesn’t want to miss out on anything, wants to take it all in while he still can, while Derek still allows him to. 

“What are you going to do? I know Braeden isn’t going with you and Cora’s still in South America, so why New York?” Stiles ask instead of what he really wants, keeps the conversation on safe subjects like this. But he keeps him close, his arms around him tightening just a bit when Derek relaxes into him, because this he can do.

“I still have a few friends left from when Laura and I lived there, there’s a pack who can take me in.” Derek says softly, Stiles’ fingers still brushing against his lips as he talks because Derek needs this too, Stiles knows. The closeness and touches of _pack_ , because where Scott never really agreed to join, Stiles has always been a member of the Hale ever since Peter bit Scott. And now they’ve all left, most of them dead but the few Derek’s still allowed to love had left him when he needed them the most – and now he’s the one leaving, Stiles thinks wryly. “I have the apartment and NYU has agreed to let me continue my degree. It’s what I need, Stiles.”

“I still hate you,” he says instead, pressing his lips against his temple, his hand threading through the short hairs at the back of his head. “I don’t think I can forgive you for this.”

“And that’s alright, I don’t need you to.”

And that’s the thing about Derek and Stiles, because no matter how much they both sought out praise and acceptance, from each other but also from their friends and families, from everyone they saw any worth in, neither of them really needed it, least of all from each other.

+++

**MEXICO**

Derek tells him when they’re still in Mexico, halfway to exhausted and surrounded by everyone they love – with just a few exceptions.

And Stiles doesn’t understand at first when Derek says he’s leaving, because they all are, this isn’t their home and they’re going back to Beacon Hills in a few hours. But Derek just shakes his head and keeps him pressed against the car, his eyes still flickering from the icy blue to his human ones. And that’s when Stiles sees the sadness in them, the need for understanding and the not very well hidden apology.

“You leaving us, leaving Beacon Hills.” he states because it’s not a question anymore. And Stiles doesn’t know how to react when Derek’s looking at him like that, like he knows it’s hurting Stiles to hear this but he has to do it anyway. Because despite how Derek might have treated him in the past, making him feels useless and stupid, pushing him to the side because of his age and unjustified idiocy, Derek has been a constant in this fucking whirlwind Stiles has come to know as a life.

And now he’s leaving, leaving the pack – leaving _Stiles_.

He yells and freaks out because that’s what he does, he talks until people see reason and it works – on everyone but Derek fucking Hale. He pushes against his chest, twists the hand keeping him against the car, spits in his face and tells him he’s a coward for leaving, for giving up on his pack, on _him_.

But Derek knows better, knows Stiles, and he doesn’t budge, never does. Not even now when Stiles is screaming bloody murder.

He just waits until Stiles is finished screaming his voice hoarse, when it hurts to talk and his hands are trembling from exhaustion and overuse and then he says, “Are you finished?” like Stiles is a kid throwing a temper tantrum – and in many ways he is. Because Derek is taking away his toy and Stiles hates people taking away his things when he’s worked so hard to take care of it, to make it a part of what he is, _who_ he is.

And then Derek is kissing him; pressing his lips against his and moving in ways Stiles has only ever seen on film and wouldn’t dare dream of doing with Malia.

Stiles doesn’t know what to do, stays still and unresponsive for a long time because this isn’t how it’s supposed to be, not how it’s supposed to happen – especially not when Derek’s just told him he’s leaving. Because Stiles might have had a crush on Derek way back when, when things with Lydia had been dead and buried for the third time and she had chosen someone else over Stiles once again. And Stiles just needed _something_ to hang onto, something to restore the balance, the void forgetting about Lydia had left him with. And Derek had been right there, with his perfectly sculptured face and wry comments spoken just how and when Stiles liked it. And Stiles might be a masochist, might hate himself just the tiniest bit because why else would he be so fucking attracted to assholes who treats him like shit; and Derek just happen to be the biggest one of them all.

But all that had gone away when Malia came along.

Because Malia wasn’t a dick – at least not to Stiles – and she liked it when he touched her like no one had allowed him to before. She might not know what love and caring was yet, but she understood affection, understood the need of being close to someone in more ways than one, in ways Stiles had been craving for so fucking long.

So it’s not fair Derek is doing this now, when Stiles is finally happy with someone who actually wants him for him and not just trying to replace someone Stiles can never be; not now when Derek’s _just_ told him he’s leaving and not coming back.

But of course Stiles kisses back, because he might not get another chance and that’s one thing he can’t let himself miss out on.

It’s hard and dirty when they kiss, teeth clashing against each other and lips being bitten with blunt teeth; hands tugging too hard on hair that shouldn’t be so fucking soft when it’s styled that great, and Stiles would worry if it had been anyone else but Derek. But it is, and Derek’s never been one to back down from a challenge, not when it’s a sure win.

Derek’s leg in between his, hands tugging his hips closer and grinding against his in a rhythm Stiles can’t quite match, but it feels like heaven so Stiles doesn’t stop trying.

It turns into something softer at some point, when Stiles’ lips are tingling from Derek’s teeth and when there’s a quickly fading mark just on the low side of Derek’s throat. And then they’re kissing like shy lovers, soft lips and tongues just sliding against each other like it’s all they’ve ever wanted. Their hands fall away from where they’re pinning each other and meets on the side of Stiles’ head, intertwining themselves and squeezing whenever one of them moans.

 And Stiles thinks this is what Scott was talking about when he tried to explain his weird obsession about Allison, how he couldn’t get enough no matter how close she was and how when she died, he felt something break inside of him. Because while Allison might not have been destined to be with Scott to the end of their days, she was always meant to be his one big, epic love. 

“I’ll drive you,” Stiles says when they finally pull back, both of them heaving for their breaths as they separate. Stiles leans against the car, head thrown back as he tries to regulate his heart beat, Derek following him, head resting on his collarbone while soft puffs of air hit the exposed skin of his neck. “We’ll take the jeep, make a trip out of it.”

 

**CALIFORNIA**

Stiles isn’t there when he tells the pack which Stiles later learns had been no one but Scott and Liam, who just happened to be at the house when Derek came crashing in. But Stiles doesn’t blame him, because Derek never really connected with the pack part II, not since his had died for a second time.

He doesn’t tell his dad where he’s going, but tell him he’s going to be alright, that Derek’s coming with him and if they get in trouble he’ll be the first to know. It’s a lie, but his dad been good with that lately, or maybe it’s just because he has a lot of other things to look after now.

They leave the day after summer vacation starts, the jeep packed with thing they won’t need and music playing too loud for Derek’s new found sensitive ears as they drive towards the highway but that’s the way both of them wants it.

They don’t talk until they reach Nevada, and even then it’s not much.

Because Stiles might have agreed to drive him to New York, but that doesn’t mean he’s fine with Derek leaving.

“Do you want to drive or should we pull in for the night?” Stiles asks when they pull in for gas, holding out his hand for Derek’s card, because he might be driving but the multi-millionaire is the one sponsoring this trip.

“Let’s stop at the next motel and get something real to eat,” Derek says calmly as he fills up the jeep. And Stiles doesn’t like the way his eyes are lingering at the protruding bones of his body, because Stiles knows he’s thin, he’s always been skin and bones. But ever since the thing with the nogitsune, Stiles has had troubling putting on weight and now he just looks downright unhealthy.

“I’m fine, you know.” He says when he comes back with a six pack of water bottles and the receipt for Derek’s accountant, who had been a secret until Derek had been forced to talk about the vault money. “You always look at me like I’m going to break; you, my dad, _Parrish_ has started doing it when we caught him up on everything. But I’m fine.”

They both get into the car and drives down the road, the music turned down to a normal volume from when Derek tried to catch up on some of his sleep from driving back from Mexico.

“I know that,” he says softly, and Stiles can’t help but notice the way his hand is hovering over Stiles’ on the gear shift before it lands on his own thigh once again. “I just need you to know that it’s okay if you’re not fine. We didn’t really have a lot of time between you being possessed, Allison dying and the whole Kate coming back and deadpool thing. I don’t think anyone would blame you if you wanted to talk about it,”

“But I _don’t._ ”

“I know, and that’s fine too.” Derek concedes with a rare smile and Stiles hates that this could be the last time he’s seeing it, that Derek is leaving and won’t come back.

 

They get a room on the second floor with a queen sized bed.

Stiles tries to ignore the way the man behind the counter watches them with a coy grin, how his eyes linger on the obvious differences between Stiles and Derek; their ages, their apparent wealth, the way they carry themselves. And he wants to scream and shout that it isn’t like _that_ , so Derek pulls him by the arm to the barely working elevator and tells him to go put the food away while he parks the car.

The bathroom is disgusting but Stiles been in a car for nine hours in the Californian heat, and right now he doesn’t care if the water that coming out is coming from the wrong plumbing as long as it washes away the sweat and grime that’s sure to irk Derek’s keen senses.

The go to bed as soon as they’ve finished the food, both of them worn out from sitting in the car for so long without anything else to do.

It’s a small bed, no larger than the one his dad had to throw away when he hit his third growth spurt within a year, but Stiles has never been one to shy away from sleeping close, he’s done it with Scott for longer than most boy their ages would be comfortable with, and now Malia who spends most of her nights in Stiles’ bed. But Derek’s bigger than either of them, longer and broader and more awkward to be pressed against when neither one of them has nothing to say.

“What am I supposed to do without you?” Stiles asks sometime in the middle of the night, when both of them should be sleeping and the sun has started to rise. He’s not even sure Derek is still awake, haven’t figured out the pattern of his breathing yet like he did with Scott and Malia, the way he can tell what his dad is dreaming about just by the rise of his chest. Because they never did this before, and Stiles kind of wants to know why it’s okay now when it obviously hasn’t been before. “What if the next big thing is something we can’t fight off? What if my dad’s the next one to go?”

He’s not expecting a reply, but Derek turns around anyway.

His soft eyes finding Stiles’ as he throws an arm around his waist and pulls him against his chest. “You’ll figure something out, Stiles. I don’t think there’s anything in this world you can’t talk out of leaving your dad alone, one way or another.” He whispers with a smile, leaning in just enough to brush their lips against each other.

“But what if I won’t-“

Derek shushes him with a grin, his lips seeking out Stiles’ whenever he tries to talk and somehow Stiles stops talking and lets Derek kiss him.

 

They get naked, fast.

Clothes thrown to the floor with careless tosses and laughter as Stiles trips over himself in his hunt for condoms - “They’re in the side pocket of the blue bag,” Derek had laughed as Stiles fell out of the bed, “don’t forget the lube.” – and Stiles hadn’t forgotten the lube, but he does blush when he lets everything fall into Derek’s hands with a stutter of smile.

Stiles straddles his hips and leans down to kiss him because this part he knows, this is the same as when he’s having sex with Malia. But then Derek reaches down and cups his dick and it _feels_ different than how Malia touches him; his hands are bigger, rougher and instead of quick experimental strokes he knows where to touch him, when he has to flick his wrist or squeeze just enough to make Stiles choke on his own spit.

“I haven’t done this before,” Stiles blurts out, when he’s this close to coming and doesn’t know if they’ll ever get to the actual sex. But then Derek’s stopping and pulls his hands away from his dick, a frown on his face as he catches Stiles’ flailing hands with his own.

“I thought you and Malia had-“

“Oh, yeah. We’ve totally had sex, but I was talking about this, _us_ , two guys having sex.” Stiles tells him with a flush of his cheeks, his head falling down to hide his reddening face. “We haven’t done anything, you know, _ass_ stuff.”

And then Derek’s rolling them around until he’s on top of Stiles, legs spread out and grabbing the lube from the small table. “I thought you might not,” he says with a coy smile as he reaches behind him to open himself up, “So I thought we might do it this way tonight.”

And Stiles is nodding before he can do anything else.

Derek falls back to the bed when he’s fully prepped, when the moans leaving his mouth is coming faster than Stiles has ever heard before, and when Stiles’ name is slipping out with cuss words he doesn’t even know. And then he’s slipping on a condom and pressing in, groaning as he sinks into Derek who grunts in pleasure, legs wrapped around his narrow waist.

Stiles fucks him like he means it, like Derek is everything he’s ever wanted and now finally can have it. And Derek’s being so good, moaning and telling him how to move to make it better for both of them as he pulls Stiles to his chest, kissing his neck with a ferocity Stiles hasn’t seen in a long time.

And then Derek comes, arching his back and throwing his head back in a perfect display of submission, and Stiles doesn’t know what to do but to follow him with a shout of his name before he collapses on his damp chest.

Stiles doesn’t know why he had assumed Derek would be a sure top, it made sense with werewolves – shifters of any kind really – being predisposed dominant. But Derek was never meant to be an alpha, no matter how much he had tried to make it work with Isaac; his mother was the alpha, and when she was gone Laura had been the one to follow and it had always been like that. Nowhere in any scenario had Derek been raised to be the one in charge.

So it makes sense he wants this, wants someone to hold him and care for him because that’s what his alpha had done; allowing himself to let go and knowing that someone is there to catch him when he’s falling.   

Stiles starts crying sometime after his dick has stopped throbbing and before Derek has let him go. “I hate you so fucking much, I hate you for this, I hate you for leaving, I hate you for not coming _back_.” He weeps against Derek’s chest, both of them pressed closer together than they’ve ever been before.

And maybe Derek doesn’t know what to say either because he stays silent and instead rocks Stiles to sleep, humming a song Stiles has never heard before but it reminds him of his mother, of how she would sing to him before bed and stay by his side until he fell asleep.

 

**DALLAS**

Derek drives the second day.

Stiles spends a lot of time watching how odd Derek looks behind the wheel of the jeep; how Derek’s sharp edges and beautiful profile is almost in juxtaposition with his big and clumsy jeep. But something much more pressing is how much at home he looks with one hand on the wheel and the other loosely intertwined with Stiles’ over the gear.

“Why haven’t we done this before?” Stiles asks when they cross another border, another state closer to New York. “I mean, just the two of us together, no impending danger hanging over our heads.”

“I don’t know,” Derek says with a small smile, “I think our timing has been terrible, never in the same places at the same time. And maybe we just didn’t want it enough for it to fit into our lives.”

“What do you mean with that?”

Derek shrugs as he blinks to change lanes before he looks at Stiles with a soft smile, “I just think there was a lot of things fighting against us, and not even the most obvious ones with you being underage up until your birthday in the spring and your dad being the Sheriff. Scott never liked me, he doesn’t trust me and I don’t think he would approve of me being with his best friend.”

“That’s, no, that’s not true. He was just a bit weary of you at first, give a man a chance.” Stiles grins when Derek laughs.

“You have no place to talk, you got me accused for murder when we first met,” he says with a roll of his eyes, “And then there was the Lydia thing, and I thought it would be a good idea to date your English teacher. Then I lost my powers and you had a new pup you had to house train,”

Stiles says quiet at that.

Because it seems a bit impossible the way Derek tells it, too many obstacles and hindrances to be worth it. Love isn’t supposed to be hard, not at first at least. It’s supposed to come easy and let you have some time before you have to fight for it. But Stiles and Derek have done nothing but fight, first against each other and then with each other, but they’ve never tried fighting for each other – and they never will.

“I guess you’re right.” He says instead. He squeezes the hand holding his and leans back against the seat. “Not everything is worth fighting for.”

 

**ILLINOIS**

“Are Braeden coming with you? I haven’t seen her since we left Mexico.” Stiles asks as they leave St. Louis and drives into Illinois. The sun is setting and Derek has started looking up hotels on his phone.

“No she’s uh, she’s still looking for the Desert Wolf.” Derek tells him slowly, his eyes glued to the small screen in his lap as he lets go of Stiles’ hand to grab the bottle of water rolling around in the back seat. “She’s great and I really appreciated what she did for me when I was evolving, but a relationship between the two of us wouldn’t work out.”

“What, why? She was great man, you should have totally made her come with you. I’m sure she could look for Malia’s mum from New York.” And Stiles does feel sad that Braeden hadn’t chosen to come along. Because even though Derek couldn’t be in a normal functioning relationship with Stiles, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want him to be happy with someone else. And Braeden had been a really good possibility.

“I think she saw us in Mexico,” he says finally. He puts the phone away and puts the directions into the GPS before he turns to Stiles with a soft look, “She said she couldn’t be in a relationship where we weren’t equally invested, and then she said something about second chances and taking them when you could.”

Stiles frowns but keeps driving.

“I think she thought I was in love with you,” Derek adds quietly.

And Stiles can see how she might have thought that. Because Stiles remember that night in Mexico, how hard it was for him to leave Derek behind when he thought he was dying, how he wanted to tell Braeden to go with them and be the one to stay behind with Derek. Because _he_ was the one Derek had been looking at when he thought he was going to die and for a very brief period of time, Stiles had thought that he might love Derek and Derek might love him back.

“Well, that’s stupid.” He says instead, clearing his throat with a cough as he tears his eyes away from Derek to look out on the road. “Why would you be in love with me? We don’t even like each other,”

“Yeah,” Derek says softly and Stiles can see a smile out of the corner of his eye, “That’s what I told her, but somehow she wouldn’t believe me so she left.”

“You should have told her to stay,” because Stiles knows Derek, and he knows that if someone was planning on leaning, Derek wouldn’t think asking them to stay with him would change their mind. Not when everyone else had left like they did.

“Good thing I didn’t. I don’t think this jeep could manage another passenger.” Derek laughs instead, and Stiles can roll with that, so he laughs and pushes him back into the seat, telling him to shut up and be nice about the senior citizens.

 

Stiles is spread out on the bed when Derek comes back carrying food.

“Hey, so I’ve made a plan for what we are going to do tomorrow and according to this, we’ll be there by the day after.” Stiles tells him as he tries to refold the map as nicely as it had been before.

“Yeah? We’re not stopping somewhere ridiculous again are we?”

Derek crawls onto the bed with both his hands filled, making sure not to touch any of Stiles’ outstretched limbs as he situates himself against the headboard before he starts dividing the food between them.

“Excuse you, none of the things we’ve done on this trip has been dumb. I’ve been teaching you culture appreciation.” Stiles corrects him with a smile as he accepts the bag of food and the drink he’s being handed.

Derek snorts, “Says the guy who hadn’t been out of the state until last year.”

“Oh, and I guess you’re just a well-travelled member of society aren’t you?” he says with a roll of his eyes as he bites into the burger. But then Derek stays quiet with a small smile on his lips and he can’t help but groan, “Of course you are, what am I thinking? You probably went all kinds of places in the school breaks, didn’t you?”

So Derek tells him about the yearly vacation to Europe usually done in the summer vacation, about the skiing holidays for the entire Hale clan coming from all around the globe to camp out in Aspen. He talks about the summer camp he went to with Laura and Cora in South America, staying with host families to learn about foreign cultures and languages, about the supernatural creatures they hadn’t seen in California back then, that are now coming slowly crawling back now that the Hale’s are gone.

“What country did you like the most?” Stiles asks when both of them are done eating and Derek is lying between his legs with his head cushioned on his shoulder. “And you can’t pick something cheesy, it has to be good.”

Derek grins quietly and looks up at Stiles with a soft smile, and if Stiles didn’t know better he would think this is what love is supposed to feel like. “I like the European countries a lot, I like the North where the rain pours and doesn’t stop until the street are flooded with water but the weather is still warm enough for you to stand outside. I like seasons, I like the snow falling and the leaves changing colors, winter turning into spring and the grass getting greener. I miss the cycle of everything and I think New York might help with that.”

**PENNSYLVANIA**

They spend the night in the jeep, closely intertwined with nothing but their jackets and the old blanket from the back covering them.

They have sex one last time just before sunrise.

With Stiles straddling Derek’s thighs in the passenger seat and Derek spending way too long opening him up and making sure he’s ready. Stiles is whining and begging, using every weapon he has in his arsenal to get Derek to speed up but he takes his time. Slowly inserting a finger as he kisses every mole of Stiles’ he can reach, the other hand just so skimming the soft skin of the cease of his thigh in time with his fingers.

And finally when Derek lets him pull down his pants and put on the condom, Stiles is almost hyperventilating, talking about nothing and everything all at once.

And then they’re fucking, but that’s not what they’re doing and they both know it. Both of them too afraid to voice their thoughts as Stiles cries out his orgasm, slumping against his chest as Derek keeps thrusting as he whispers sweet nothings into Stiles’ ear.

Stiles almost says it when they’re both cleaned up and ready to sleep, when Derek wraps him up in his arms and hold him close, lips resting on the top of his head as lets his eyes fall shut. But Stiles keeps quiet, it’s what they both need if either one of them are going to recover from this trip any time soon.

 

**NEW YORK**

It’s reluctant when Stiles stops the jeep in front of a tall building, the façade stylish and modern with a doorman stationed just outside the door. And everything about it screams _wrong_ , because this is nothing like the loft or the burnt down Hale house, nothing like the train hangar Derek stayed in that time when he was trying to build himself a pack. But, Stiles realizes, this must be what the Hale house used to look like, what Derek and Cora had been accustomed to way back when.

“I guess this is goodbye then,” Stiles says when they’ve carried Derek’s back to his floor and all the excuses have run out.

“Thank you for driving me.” Derek says softly, but he doesn’t lean in, doesn’t kiss him so Stiles nods and look to the floor. There’s something in his eyes, something he doesn’t dare vocalize but Stiles knows what it is, has thought about it since Ohio.

But as much as he wants to stay in New York with Derek, he needs to be in Beacon Hills.

Derek is leaving because he doesn’t belong there anymore, doesn’t belong in the pack and has no purpose there except being the token born-wolf – the only thing tying him down is this weird _thing_ he has with Stiles, and even that hasn’t been explored enough for it to be a reason for him to stay.

Stiles is just the opposite, in every single way.

Beacon Hills is Stiles’ home and might always be, it’s where his dad is and where their house is, where his mother died and where he started to heal himself, the place where he finally turned into _something_ that could feel the void his mom had left behind when she died – taking care of not only himself, but his dad in ways the Sheriff didn’t even know he needed.

And Stiles might not be a werewolf himself, might not be the true alpha Scott is, but the pack is just as much his as it is Scott’s. He was the one to figure all this out, the one to teach Scott how to cope with his new way of living. He had been just as much a part of Liam learning to control himself, and Malia coming to terms with being a werecoyote with parents that had left her, and now somehow wanted _something_ from her.

And the only thing telling him to go was this thing with Derek, the soft tugging of his heart when they looked at each other, the way his heart started to pound whenever they kissed.

But they both know it isn’t enough for him to go, just like it wasn’t enough for Derek to stay.

So he pulls Derek in for a final time, their lips only just brushing before he pulls away with a sad smile. “I’m going to miss you,”

And Derek nods but doesn’t say anything, but Stiles knows he would if he could, his eyes are shiny in a way Stiles has never seen them before so he turns around and starts to walk down the hallway, stopping just at the top of the stairwell to say, “I don’t really hate you.” And it’s so quiet, the words almost whispered as he walks down the stairs.

But he knows Derek hears them, he always does.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm at tumblr @simonssantiago if you want to talk!


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